


Friendly Neighborhood Exchange

by spooderboyandtincan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angry Tony Stark, Angst, Brief mention of needles, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, How Do I Tag, Hurt Peter Parker, I'm Sorry, Medical Inaccuracies, Poor Peter, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Avengers, Protective Tony Stark, Scared Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Worried Avengers, Worried Tony Stark, anti harley keener, anti starker, avengers fam, brief mentions of death, no starker, tony stark is a dad, tw blood, tw guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26616679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooderboyandtincan/pseuds/spooderboyandtincan
Summary: “Actual question, though,” he smirked. “Does Tony even care? It has to be a charity event, right?”Tears leaked from Peter’s eyes. “No.”Tony loved him, and had told him countless times how much. Tony loved him more than anything.But Harley’s words drummed into his mind. He couldn’t help the tiny, almost unnoticeable sliver of doubt creep into his head.Or: Harley Keener comes to stay with Tony while he looks at colleges. Eating spaghetti, prying into Tony's personal life, and tormenting Peter to the point that he runs away from the tower during a thunder storm and gets grievously injured, are just a few of the things Harley enjoys.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & The Avengers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 165
Collections: The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	Friendly Neighborhood Exchange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malya/gifts).



> I really loved this prompt and I had so much fun writing it!

Peter couldn’t remember when he started referring to Tony as “Dad” in his head. But he could count on one hand the times he had _actually_ called Tony that.

The first three times they had brushed it off, Peter blushing a dark red, Tony smiling into his palm and tears blooming in the corners of his eyes.

The fourth time, Peter lay in the medbay with a white bandage wrapped around his head and Mr. Stark clutching his hand tightly, and he had called him Dad. Tony had teared up (and began to cry) and said he would _love_ it if Peter called him dad.

Peter had it all planned out. It was all he could think about the entire day, even in science when he was reprimanded for not paying attention. He’d jump into the car, grin, and say “Hi, Dad! Guess what score I got on the science quiz!”

He felt a warm rush every time he thought of it. 

Peter rushed out of the school, shouting a quick goodbye to Ned. He flung the car door open. “Hi, D- oh. Happy? Umm, h-hi.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, kid,” said the driver. Peter shut the passenger door, sighing, and opened the back door.

“Where’s Mr. Stark?” he asked. 

Happy met his eyes in the mirror. “Boss is at the penthouse. He has somebody he wants you to meet.”

_Well, that sure cleared things up_ , Peter thought. Was it a doctor? A therapist? A scientist? His evil clone?

When he arrived at the penthouse, he wasn’t met with an insane doctor trying to kill his mentor with a bludgeon, just Tony and a kid sitting at the kitchen island, drinking strong coffee.

A _kid._

A young man, he corrected himself. He was tall, far taller than Tony and _much_ taller than Peter, with his hair wavy and styled with what must have been copious amounts of hair gel. He wore a red flannel shirt with sleeves he’d buttoned at the elbow, and ragged, torn up jeans with gray sneakers.

“Pete!” Tony exclaimed, jumping up to giving him a quick side hug and ruffling his hair. “Hey, buddy. How was school?”

“Fine. Who’s that?”

At his dreary response, Tony’s eyes glinted with worry. “This is Harley, kiddo. He’s staying here while he looks at colleges. And Harley, this is Peter.” 

The young man, Harley, stepped forward, extending his hand. “Hey, Peter. Nice to finally meet you.”

Peter shook his hand and smiled, joining him at the kitchen island. “Nice to meet you too!” 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Harley. “And I mean a _lot.”_ He glanced towards Tony, who was bustling around, making hot chocolate and cider and getting snacks, oblivious. “It’s all he ever talks about. ‘Peter did this, Peter did that, guess what Peter’s doing right now.’” Harley rolled his eyes. “It gets pretty annoying, to be honest.”

“O-oh. Sorry?” _Ouch._

“Eh. I can tolerate him,” he shrugged. Peter glanced down at the table, running his finger across the lines in the wood. They sat together, the only sounds coming from the clinking of a spoon against a pan as Tony made hot chocolate.

“So what are you?” Harley whispered suddenly, leaning forward. “His secret kid?”

He blinked. “No, no, um… I’m just his intern. Personal intern.” The lie sounded forced, even to him. He was Tony’s kid, biological or not.

“Right,” the young man said skeptically. Peter looked at the table awkwardly, before a plate of cookies was placed in front of him. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter grinned.

“Of course, bud.” Tony pulled up a stool next to him, and Peter felt a warm hand on his back. He grabbed a cookie (double chocolate-chip) and sipped his mug of hot chocolate.

“It’s September,” Harley said suddenly. 

“Indeed it is,” Tony replied, not looking up from the plate of cookies, hand hovering above them while he tried to decide which one he would take.

“So why are you drinking hot chocolate?” He looked at Peter, frowning and perplexed, like Peter had performed some unspeakable offense.

He blushed and took a large drink from his mug. “It-it’s just cold out. Y’know.” 

_Plus, he couldn’t thermoregulate. Most days he would do_ anything _to get warm. Besides stealing Tony and Ned’s sweatshirts, he could (and would) down ten cups of hot chocolate in a single sitting._

Tony immediately jumped to his defense, sensing Peter’s discomfort at Harley’s not-so-kind words. He stood up and poured another cup for himself, looking Harley directly in the eye. “Cheers.” 

Tony hid his smile behind the mug when Harley looked at him like _You too?_

~~~~~

“So, Tony, what have you been doing?” asked Harley. “I haven’t heard much about you, just Peter.”

The older man chuckled, twisting spaghetti between his fork and spoon. “Superhero duties keep me pretty busy, kid. Not much else to talk about.” 

Harley scoffed. “Yeah, right. All those ‘superhero duties,’ and you have the time to… you can spend time with your personal intern?” He gestured to Peter. 

Peter knew without looking that there was a tension in Tony’s shoulders, knew that every single instinct in him was screaming _‘protect Peter.’_

_I don’t need protecting._

But before Peter could say anything, Tony spoke up. “Maybe you can tell us?” he joked, keeping his tone light. “You seem pretty interested in my personal life.”

Harley pursed his lips and frowned. “I was just curious.”

Tony nodded but stayed silent, though he reached out to rub Peter’s back gently. Harley _did_ seem oddly fascinated with Tony’s personal life and his relationship with Peter.

But who would blame him for being curious? 

“Maybe that’s enough about me,” Tony said, trying to keep the air light. “Harley, how have you been?”

The other man snorted. “Boring. My sis just started high school, Mom got a new job, and I have a month till graduation.”

“That’s so cool!” Peter exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “What college do you wanna go to?”

“Anywhere away from Tennessee. Can’t wait to get out of that shit-hole.”

“Watch your language, there’s a kid.” Tony was only half-teasing. He covered Peter’s ears. “You may proceed, young sir.”

Peter shook Tony’s hands off his ears, though he could still hear perfectly fine. “I’ve always wanted to go to MIT! Do you think you might go there?”

“I told ya, kid, anywhere away from my house.”

~~~~~

Peter held back a gasp as thunder and rain pounded in his ears. _Ow ow ow._

His attempts were useless, however, as Harley snorted and rolled his eyes, “Aww, you scared?” 

Peter frowned at Harley’s sudden change in mood. “N-no.” He winced, both at the thunder and the way his voice cracked. _“No._ I’m not scared.”

_It just hurts._

Peter listened carefully for Tony’s heartbeat, hoping the man would come to calm his nerves, but the storm had completely drowned him out. Even with his super-hearing he could only hear the pounding rain.

Tony had been dragged to a meeting by Pepper, who claimed his presence was _absolutely necessary._ He had hoped Peter and Harley could spend some “bonding time” together, but that wasn’t going too well. 

It wasn’t going well at all. 

Peter would give _anything_ for Mr. Stark to realize that he needed him. 

“Christ, what are you, a baby?” Harley snapped as Peter flinched. “Does Tony have to deal with this shit?”

Peter hid his face in his knees. _You’re stronger than this. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry._ He squeezed his eyes shut, but one pearly tear slipped out. 

Tony _had_ seen him cry, more times to count, and always he was soft and gentle and kissed his forehead, and wouldn’t let go of Peter.

“You crying, sweetheart?” Harley mocked, his voice high pitched and false. “Shit, you’re such a disappointment.”

_Stop it stop it stop it._ Harley’s words tore at his heart. _Stop talking._

“Actual question, though,” he smirked. “Does Tony even care? It has to be a charity event, right?”

Tears leaked from Peter’s eyes. _“No.”_

Tony loved him, and had told him countless times how much. Tony loved him more than anything.

But Harley’s words drummed into his mind. He couldn’t help the tiny, almost unnoticeable sliver of doubt creep into his head.

_Tony loved him._

_Right?_

“Lemme break it to you Parker.” Suddenly Harley’s hand was squeezing his shoulder almost unbearably tight. “He doesn’t care. _He doesn’t care._ Trust me, it’s for publicity, and I know it. I know _him.”_

_Tony would never,_ ever _lie to him._

“Don’t touch me,” Peter whispered weakly. “You’re lying.”

“I’m doing you a favor, Parker you know that? You’re just a naïve little kid.” He squeezed his shoulder again. Peter was sure he had finger-print shaped bruises forming on his skin. “You don’t know anything.”

_No no no Tony-_

With that, Harley flopped back on the couch, winking maliciously at the other boy, and turning on the tv. Peter buried his head between his knees, trying to hide himself in the cushions. 

_Tony loved him. Peter was going to call him Dad._

“Hey, bud, what’s up?” 

Peter jumped when Mr. Stark’s figure suddenly appeared in the doorway. Though he glanced down the moment Tony’s eyes met his, he could see the flash of worry and parental panic on his face at his tears.

“Hey, hey, oh no,” Tony murmured, rushing to his side. He squeezed next to him in the armchair and cupped his cheek with warm, gentle fingers, wiping his tears away. “No, _bambo,_ what’s wrong? Shh. Are you hurt? Do you feel bad?”

Peter shook his head frantically, not wanting to cause anymore heat between Harley and himself. Tony smiled warmly, though his eyes were worried and he was desperate to help his kid. “Really, bud? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look like that.”

He glanced nervously at Harley, who sent him a warning glare.

“I’m fine.”

Tony sighed. Peter held back a gasp when he turned to Harley. “Kid, do you know what happened?” 

The young man stood, faux worry crossing his face. “No. I have no idea. Is he okay?”

Another sigh rustled Peter’s curls. He blinked back tears, sensing how distraught Tony would be seeing him cry. 

He slipped out of his hold and ran.

_“Peter!”_

~~~~~

Tony’s day, which had been going surprisingly well, upended the moment he got an alert from his AI.

The alert filled the screen of his phone when he picked it up, not that he wouldn’t have noticed anything that read ‘Peter’s emotional distress rate at 7/10 and rising.’

Of _course,_ how could he have been so _stupid?_ Peter’s senses must have been going insane while the storm pounded outside. Tony ran for the door, his chair falling back in the process.

Ignoring the exclamations of the old geezers behind him (“Stark, where do you think you’re going?”) he rushed up the stairs, knowing the elevator would take far too long. 

“Hey, bud, what’s up?” he asked, attempting to hide his concern as he glanced at his kid, who was curled in an armchair with his head between his knees. 

_Shit._

When Peter looked up, Tony had just enough time to see his red eyes and the shiny tear tracks on his face.

“Hey, hey, oh no,” he cooed, hugging Peter tightly with one hand and wiping his tears away with the other. “No, _bambo,_ what’s wrong? Shh. Are you hurt? Do you feel bad?”

Tony’s worry was only slightly assuaged when Peter shook his head, because it was obvious his kid _wasn’t okay._

“Really, bud? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look like that.” _Please, baby, tell me what’s wrong._

“I’m fine.” 

Tony sighed. _Oh, buddy._ Hoping to retrieve some information to why his kid was so riled up, because sensory overloads always left him clinging to Tony, not shying away.

Something must have happened, and it terrified him.

“Kid, do you know what happened?” 

“No. I have no idea. Is he okay?” Harley stood up, biting his lip and looking worried. 

He glanced back to the boy, and was shocked when he flinched, and then broke from his hold and ran.

_“Peter!”_ Tony jumped up to follow his kid. 

“Pete, open the door, _please,”_ he begged, knocking on the wood. “Let me help you, buddy, c’mon. Please.”

Silence.

“Please.”

Nothing. 

He tested the doorknob and was surprised to find it wasn’t locked. “Petey, I’m gonna come in, just to check on you, okay?”

The door swung open and Tony stepped inside and-

The room was empty.

The window was wide open, curtains whipping back and forth in the wind, raindrops falling on the window sill.

He dashed to the window and leaned out, shielding his eyes from the rain. _“Peter?!”_ He squinted, desperately trying to find the form of his precious spider-kid. 

“FRIDAY-”

“Already on it, boss,” said the AI. “Tracking Peter.”

Tony barely noticed when the suit formed around him, too distracted by FRIDAY’s voice. 

“Boss, I am unable to find Peter’s location.”

“Try again, call him,” he ordered, blasting straight through the window, glass shattering around him.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

“Boss, he didn’t answer-”

“Try again.” He searched the tops of the buildings and the alleyways frantically, his suit focusing on every heat signature and determining it wasn't his kid.

_Please, please, please be okay, Peter_

The call rang. Peter didn’t pick up.

_I’m coming Petey, I’ll find you_

There-

A small figure with a bright blue hoodie.

_Peter!_

~~~~~

Peter wiped his tears away angrily and yanked on his mask. He didn’t bother to get the suit, just snapped on his webshooters, opened the window, and jumped.

He let himself fall for just a little too long, the wind screaming and whistling in his ears as he dropped.

He caught himself in barely enough time, his curls brushing the cement before he went shooting upwards.

Peter swung from building to building, gliding through alleys, jumping over gaps in apartments. He jumped down to the pavement and rubbed his eyes under the mask, then started walking in a feverish haze.

_Mr. Stark loved him, right?_

_Of course he did!_

_It was so clear. When he looked in the man’s eyes they were filled with love and fondness and it was so obvious how much he cared- and when Tony cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead and spoke softly to him, like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered._

But Harley’s words had drilled doubt into his mind.

He gulped and tried to shake his thoughts away. _Shut it, Parker. It’s not true. Shut up._

Unfortunately, he couldn’t silence his own thoughts that simply. 

_Does he love you? Does he?_

_Yes!_

_Are you sure?_

_...Yes._

_You're nothing. He doesn't love you._

_Stop it it’s not true-_

“Hey! Put your hands up.”

The hairs on his neck and arms prickled. He turned slowly, raising his arms.

He was met with the muzzle of a pistol.

“Dude,” he mumbled, sniffing and hoping his tears hadn’t leaked through his mask. “Not cool.”

“Spider-Man!” the woman gasped, the gun shaking slightly. “I-I didn’t…” she took a deep breath and steeled herself. Shaking away her ponytail and adjusting the ski mask on her head, she snapped, “I need money and you’re gonna give it to me.” She clicked the safety off the gun. “Isn’t that right, spidey?”

“Ummm, I don’t have a wallet- I mean I have one, I just didn’t _bring_ it with me because… um… stuff like this happens,” Peter rambled. “I mean, no offense! I just like to plan ahead- actually I didn’t plan ahead, I kinda just jumped out of the window, but I mean, you get it, right?”

“What?” she snarled. “No excuses, Spider-Man. Give me the fucking _money.”_

“I’m telling the truth, lady. I don’t have any money! So if you could just put the gun down maybe we can hug it out?”

Normally he would have been faster, his reflexes quick and blinding, but when he had said “hug it out” he remembered how much he wanted a hug.

A hug from Tony.

And then there was a loud bang that nearly shattered his eardrums and bullet pierced through his side. And then another bang. And one more.

White hot pain radiated through his torso and Peter had to hold back a sharp cry. He doubled over in pain, clutching the bullet wounds. He could tell from experience that all three bullets were stuck in his flesh. Peter collapsed to the ground, blood already soaking the thick material of his sweatshirt.

_It must have hit something important,_ he thought hazily.

The woman knelt next to him and turned his body over roughly. Peter whimpered as she elbowed his wound. She dug through the pockets on his hoodie and gave a disgusted curse when her now bloody hands found no money. 

“Told ya,” he mumbled, gazing up at the night sky.

He’d forgotten it was raining. Had it been raining this whole time? 

Peter liked the rain but he didn’t like thunder. It was too loud.

The villain stood up, cured again, and kicked his body in displeasure. He groaned. “Damn you, Spidey.” And then she ran.

_At least she didn’t take off my mask,_ he thought. Peter blinked slowly and moved his hand to rest on his face.

It was getting hard to breathe, which probably wasn’t good. With his last ounce of strength, he peeled off his mask. Panting heavily, he realized too late that now he couldn’t call Tony.

(Shouldn’t have disabled that tracker)

“Tony,” he gasped. “Dad. D-Dad.” 

He glanced up. Were those repulsors he heard in the distance? Or was it just his imagination?

~~~~~

**_“Peter!”_ **

Iron Man sped towards the ground at breakneck speed, so fast that a warning alert popped up on his screen.

“Pete,” he whispered, landing with such force that he cracked the pavement. _“Petey.”_

He sprinted forward and collapsed to his knees and for a moment his hands hovered over Peter’s body, not sure what to do. _“Baby.”_

He dug his fingers into the boy’s pulse point. The beat was there, to his overwhelming relief, but weak and staggered. 

Tony sobbed quietly, blood covering his fingers. “Petey- Petey, _wake up,”_ he begged “I’m right here, kiddie, you just gotta wake up, okay?” Tony pulled Peter to his lap and cradled him against his chest with a gentle touch. _“Please,_ baby. Wake up.”

He smoothed Peter’s bangs from his sweaty brow and kissed his forehead tenderly, trying to coax him awake, to let his kid know that he was _right there._

The child’s eyes fluttered and Tony gasped. “Petey. Wake up, honey, you’re doing great. Open your eyes, _bambino.”_

“D-dad?” Peter rasped, blinking up at him. 

“Oh, baby, I’m here, Dad’s right here,” Tony cooed, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb against the soft skin. He struggled to pull off his jacket and pressed it against Peter’s wound.

Peter gave a sharp cry. “Dad… it hurts. Stop! _H-hurts!”_

“I know it hurts, baby, I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you, okay? You’re gonna be okay, honey,” he assured him with a gasp. _God, he was hurting his kid._ “We’re gonna go visit Helen, she’ll fix you right up. I just need you to hold on, okay? Hold on for me, _please,_ Petey. I need you.”

Peter took a shuddering breath and whimpered. “Hur’s… hur’s, Dad.” 

Tony nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, kissing the top of Peter’s head, wishing the horror of his baby, lying limp and bleeding out in his arms, wasn’t true. God, he wished this was just a horrible nightmare, wished he could wake up and find Peter safe and warm in bed. 

“P-Pete, oh _baby,_ I’m so sorry. I’m supposed to protect you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby.”

“No… ‘ony, don’ c-cry,” Peter slurred, reaching up a trembling hand. Tony grasped it like a lifeline and pressed his lips to the knuckles.

“‘Ony,” he mumbled. _“‘Ony._ D-do you… do you l-love me?

Tony stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, trying to grasp how his precious kid could think he, who loved him with his entire heart and soul, didn’t love him. His kid, who was his life, his entire _universe._

“Peter,” he choked. “Petey, I love you so much, _so so much._ I love you more than _anything,_ baby, I love you so much. I love you.”

Peter grinned hazily up at him. “K-knew it.”

And he exhaled shakily and his eyes slipped shut. 

“N-no,” Tony whispered. “No. No, no no no, **_no!_ ** Peter! Peter, wake up! _Peter! Wake up right now!”_

Tony sobbed and dropped his forehead against Peter’s rocking him back and forth gently. “No, _no no no,_ please, please no,” he moaned. 

Tony ran shaking fingers across Peter’s clammy brow, then kissed his forehead firmly. “Goddammit, Petey, _hold on.”_ Tears trickled down his cheeks. 

He lay Peter on the ground, heart aching every second he wasn’t holding his child, and let the suit form around him, then scooped up his kid, adjusting him gently in his arms, and shot into the sky, thrusters at full speed. 

Peter’s vitals appeared on the screen in front of him. Tony’s eyes flitted from Peter’s baby face to his steadily weakening pulse on the screen.

_Oh god, stay with me sweetheart_

His heart beat so fast he doubted it could be detected. He urged the suit to go faster, _faster,_ speeding to the tower medbay.

“FRI-” he began shakily.

“I’ve contacted Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner, boss,” the AI assured. “They’ve prepared the medbay and are ready to help Peter.”

“Okay. Okay. Good.” 

_Peter would be okay_

_He_ had _to_

_Tony needed him_

Tony mumbled to himself, hysteria setting in as he sped to the tower. The time passed in a blur of fear and worry, and Tony just wanted to hold Peter in his arms, safe and warm and alive.

_Please!_

Just let him be okay.

Suddenly Tony was thudding against the landing pad and was met with the med team. They were prepared with a cot and various medical equipment that Tony couldn’t bother to name. 

“Tony!” Helen Cho rushed towards him. 

“H-Helen, help him,” he begged. _“Help him!”_

“I will, Tony, breathe. You need to give Peter to us.” She reached out to take the boy from Iron Man’s arms. Tony pulled away protectively, shielding Peter, before the rational part of his mind realized to help Peter he would need to _let go._

He could only watch in terror as the med team swarmed over the boy, wires and tubes and monitors slapped to his chest and face. Peter was rolled away on the cot, before something in his brain snapped into place. 

_God, he had to protect Peter, he had to be with his baby he had to protect him, he couldn’t let Peter go he couldn’t let go-_

Tony sprinted after his kid. _“Peter!”_

~~~~~

May, Rhodey, and Natasha rushed into the medbay at the same time, Rhodey’s braces echoing in the bare hallways. 

There they found Tony, sitting against the wall of Peter’s surgery room, wringing his hands and staring off into space. His eyes were red and silvery tear tracks stained his face. 

“Tony! What happened? Is Peter okay?! Where is he?” May yelled. Tony flinched in surprise. 

“May,” he said, his voice gravelly. “May, I-I…” Tony massaged his face. The three knelt next to him, Rhodey’s arm around his back, May’s hand on his shoulder, and Nat’s hand on his foot.

“What happened, Tony?” Rhodey said softly, obviously worried for his (kind of) nephew. And his best friend, who was clearly _devastated._

Tony sniffed. “H-he was shot. Three times, I think. I-I…” He held up his shaking hands, which were covered in blood. _Peter’s_ blood.

May gasped. Nat’s composure slipped for just a second. Rhodey squeezed his eyes shut, then stood up and came back carrying a warm, wet cloth. 

Gently he took Tony’s hand and began to work the blood off them. Tony normally would have teared up at his best friend’s kind gesture, but he could only think of his beloved kid, in the room right next to him, having strangers poke and prod and cut him. His kid, who was alone and bleeding and hurt-

_Oh god._ His baby.

Rhodey caught Tony in his arms as he began to sob. 

He just wanted to hold his kid. Make sure he’s safe. Protect him so he _is_ safe. _Please._

May patted Tony’s back, lost in her own thoughts. Nat stood up and paced the length of the hallway and back again, her black boots clicking against the tiles. 

Peter’s surgery lasted three more hours, full of anguish and crying, with Natasha and Rhodey trying to comfort the frantic parents (and themselves). 

Tony remembered how close his kid had been to fading away, to never wake up again.

(If Peter died, he would too. He knew it deep down. He couldn’t live without his kid.)

He sniffed, and nearly missed the sound of the surgery door swinging open. 

Helen walked out, sighing wearily. “Gang’s all here?” she joked. 

Tony bolted to his feet, the rest following.

“Peter?!” he gasped.

She nodded. “He’s okay, Tony. We’ll be moving him to his normal room in about ten minutes, and you can see him after that.”

Tony’s legs felt weak as a rush of relief nearly caused him to pass out. He crumpled into Rhodey’s chest, bursting into tears once again. May hugged Natasha, who looked a bit surprised but smiled and wrapped her arms around the other woman.

The ten minutes passed achingly slow. They hovered around Peter’s room in a swarm of worry. And when the door opened, Tony was the first to run in.

Peter was pale and limp under the layers of blankets, numerous wires attached to his skin under his hospital gown. The room was dark, with only only one lamp casting golden light on Peter’s face, with the shades to the window closed. 

Tony rushed to his kid, bending over his still body and cupping his face, pressing his forehead to Peter’s. Tears trickled down his cheeks and landed on the boy’s face. He sobbed and pressed kiss after kiss to his forehead and ran his fingers through his delicate curls.

May appeared on Peter’s other side, clutching one of his small hands. She took a damp, warm rag and, not unlike Rhodey had done for Tony, began tenderly wiping at the cuts that he must have earned when he collapsed to the alley floor. She paused for a moment and kissed his cheek, gazing at him as if taking in every detail of his face. 

Tony reached out to take the cloth from her and dabbed at his baby’s face gently, eager to do _anything_ that would help his kid, no matter how small. Natasha appeared behind them and held out a box of Spider-Man bandaids, smiling. 

“For моего ребенка паука,” she said, then retreated to the corner of the room where she hovered silently, watching Tony and May coo and fuss over their kid.

Tony took the bandaids and gently stuck them on Peter’s minor wounds. May chuckled quietly and plastered a bandaid to Peter’s chin. 

Tony carefully sat on the side of the hospital bed, playing with the boy’s soft curls. May pulled up her usual plaid armchair and continued to hold his hand tightly. The inventor murmured a few words in Italian to the boy, quiet enough so that if Peter was awake he would be the only one who could hear.

And then they both flinched violently, Tony leaping up to stand in front of Peter, when the door slammed open with such force it made a small dent in the wall.

Tony cursed angrily, glancing down to his kid to see if he had woken up prematurely. Peter’s face stayed lax.

He sat back down and took Peter’s small hand. “Harley, what are you doing here?”

“What happened to him?” Harley asked, ignoring the other man. “Like what, he’s dying now?”

Tony’s face went pale, his eyes wide. He swayed where he sat, and May darted forward to support him. “It’s okay, Tony. It’s okay. He’s okay,” she comforted. 

Natasha stepped from the shadows and put her hand on Harley’s shoulder, forcefully leading him out of the room. They could hear the young man protesting as they walked down the hallway.

“Tony?” May asked. “Are you okay?”

Tony took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. “No.” He forced a laugh.

“He’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I-I just hate it. I hate seeing him so-so hurt and scared and _I’m_ scared, then he tries to reassure me when I should be doing that for _him-_ God.” He had his hand in his hair and looked seconds away from pulling it out. “I just wish I could keep him _safe,”_ he whispered, tears prickling in his eyes.

“I know,” said May. “Believe me, I know.”

~~~~~

“Rhodey,” May laughed. “Guys, this is too much.” She looked at the basket of round, oreo shaped Spider-Man pillows, to the four flower vases on the table, to the clusters of balloons tied to the end of the bed, to the various collections of cards by the flowers.

Steve sighed. “Yeah, we know. We’ll give some to Clint’s kids.”

“No, you won’t,” Clint retorted. “I’ve tripped on three skateboards today! Three _different_ skateboards!” 

“You can’t trip on a plushie,” Sam muttered.

“Try me! I’m the master of breaking my back!”

Bucky handed a packet of Spider-Man stickers to May. “He loves to stick these on my arm. Thought he might like these.” He leaned back into Steve’s chest and gazed up. The other man squeezed his shoulder and kissed his lips as if in some strange limbo/ twister game. 

"Get a room," Tony grumbled, shielding Peter's eyes.

Rhodey shrugged. “Least we can do is take care of this human disaster.” He poked Tony’s forehead and observed his disheveled appearance. Tony blinked and rubbed at his tired eyes. “Tony, you _have_ to take care of yourself.”

“I appreciate it, everyone, thank you,” May assured. “I know Peter will love these.”

Tony picked up one of the Spider-Man plushies and tucked it under Peter’s blankets. He was squeezed next to the boy on the hospital bed, leaning against a pillow which must have been decimating his back. “There you go, bud. It’s a mini-you.” He smiled and gently ruffled his curls.

The room went quiet when the Avengers reluctantly left, forced out by Dr. Cho, who had come to refill Peter’s IV bag. Tony kissed Peter’s forehead and gently moved his head to the side when she drew out a needle, knowing that even though he was asleep, his kid hated needles.

They sat in silence once the doctor left, silently wishing for their kid to wake up.

“Pete,” he choked out suddenly. “Come on, baby, you’ve had enough time to sleep. Wake up for us, buddy, _please.”_

He hadn’t expected his kid to wake up, but maybe his hope was enough, because Peter’s eyelids fluttered. The two parents gasped.

Tony leaned forward, rubbing Peter’s cheekbone with his thumb and trying to coax him awake. “Come on baby, you can do it. You can do it, wake up, Petey. Wake up, there you go, that’s it.”

Peter’s eyes opened slowly. He moaned and blinked, then managed to get his eyes halfway open. 

“There he is!” the man exclaimed. “Oh _baby.”_

May waved from his other side. “Hi, sweetie.”

“D-d… Dad? Aun’ May?”

“Right here, honey,” Tony cooed, his heart exploding with love. _Dad._ Peter had called him Dad! His voice was lost in emotion for a second. 

“Hi,” the boy mumbled, grinning lazily.

“Hi there, Spider-Baby.” He bent to kiss his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmmm… feel good. Like ‘m floatin’.” He turned his head. “Hi Aun’ May.” 

“Hey, sweetie,” she murmured. 

“Wassup, bros?” he slurred loopily. They both laughed.

“Not much, bud. You slept through the night, the team came over, and… oh, I’m missing something, let me see… oh, right you got shot.” He raised one eyebrow which made Peter giggle. 

“‘M s’rry. Got distracted.”

“It’s okay, buddy. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Tony desperately wanted to let his kid know that he didn’t have to apologize every time he almost died.

Peter hummed and squeezed Tony’s hand weakly, who squeezed back with considerably more gentle force. “Can I ask you something, kiddo?”

“Sure.”

Tony smiled. “Buddy, a few nights ago, you asked me if I loved you. Remember that?” He continued when the boy nodded in confirmation. “What did you mean? I love you so much, Petey. Did I do something wrong? Did I… did I say something bad?”

He held his breath. Had he accidentally hurt his kid? What had happened to make Peter doubt his love?

“N-no, no! I said that because… because I-I…” he took a deep breath. “Few days ago I was talkin’ t’ Harley… an’ he said you didn’ love me an’ that I was jus’ for main’ you look good. But I knew that wasn’ true.” He smiled. “Knew it.”

The ice cold shock that had hit Tony soon dissolved from anger to pure, unbridled _fury._

_“Harley,”_ he repeated, almost snarling. “Harley told you that?”

“Mm-hmm.” Peter was oblivious to Tony’s anger. “Knew he was wrong.”

“Petey- yes, he’s wrong, he’s so so wrong, baby. You know that right? You know I love you so much, _so damn much?”_

“I-I know, Dad. I love you too. More than… than… all the letters i-in the universe! P-plus all the stars, an’ the bugs, an’ all the little pieces of yarn in the c-carpet!”

Tony grinned fondly, kissing the boy’s forehead. God, he loved this sweet kid. “I bet I love you even more than that, buddy.”

He pushed his anger down, down, until all that was left was his never-ending love for his kid.

“Even more?” Peter gasped, eyes sparkling. “No way!”

“Yeah way,” he teased, running his fingers through his hair. Ma smothered her laughter with a hand.

“W-well, then I love you more than a-all the pixels on my computer. On all of the computers!”

“Wow, bud, that’s a lot, huh?”

Peter smiled proudly and nodded, satisfied he'd won. He turned his head to his aunt. “Love you t-too May.”  
  


“I love you too, sweetie.” She smiled and adjusted one of the little Spider-Man plushies by his side, letting him grab onto it.

“G’night,” he said, eyes drooping. 

“Goodnight, baby,” Tony whispered, pressing a long kiss to his forehead. “I love you.”

“Nap time already?” asked May gently, smiling. “Goodnight, Pete. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Peter’s eyes closed and his breathing slowed. His hand went limp in Tony’s, who gave it a tight squeeze.

When they knew he was deeply asleep, the pair shared a glance. 

_“Who,”_ May asked, “is Harley?”

~~~~~

Tony strolled down the hallway casually, composure cool and collected.

On the outside.

On the inside he was a turmoil of rage and anguish and a familiar aching to get back to his kid.

But first he had to find another kid. A certain young adult. 

_That_ kid.

The kid who had fed lies and seeds of doubt into his own kid’s mind. Doubts about a father’s love. Saying the unspeakable. 

Who caused his kid to get shot. _Three fucking times._

_Harley._

“Hey, kid,” he greeted calmly, sauntering into the living room where Harley lounged on the couch, swiping away on his phone.

“Hey, Tony. Geez, what happened to that kid? He get shot or somethin’?” Harley barely glanced up, not concerned it slightest.

In fact, he looked _satisfied._

_Stay calm, Tones. Stay calm._

“As a matter of fact, he did.”

“Fuck, man. That sucks.”

_Yeah, it sure fucking does. My kid, my baby almost fucking_ died _and it was your fault, and all you say is “that sucks?”_

“Sure does. He’s doing better, though,” Tony continued. “What I wanna know is, why was he out there? Any ideas?”

Harley shrugged, not willing to share much more. “Maybe he likes the rain?”

“Maybe that’s it,” Tony considered. The icy anger flooded through him again. “Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because you told him I didn’t _fucking_ love him. Think that’s it?”

Harley glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? ‘Cause I saw the footage, Harley. ‘It must be a charity event, right?’ ‘He doesn’t care?’” Tony’s eyes must have been red, he was so angry. “Kid, I really don’t think you know me as much as you think you do. You don’t know me at all.”

“Save it,” he snapped when the other man tried to protest. “He almost fucking _died_ because of you. He could have been _killed._ You could have killed _my kid._

“He- I-I-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want you to get out.”

“W-what? What do you mean?” Harley blinked up at him, his sneakers still getting dirt on the couch.  
  


Tony’s face grew deadly serious. He physically had to grab his hand to restrain from calling the suit. “He. Almost. Died. You need to get _out_ of my house and _away_ from my kid.”

“I-I didn’t-” he began to protest. 

“Out, or I’ll call security. _You need to leave,”_ Tony snarled.

Harley blinked, then jumped up and ran, tripping over his shoelaces as he rushed to the elevator. Tony watched, glaring, as the door closed. 

A few minutes later, FRIDAY announced, “Harley has left the building, boss.”

“Good.”

He would have loved to talk to that kid for hours, about how much he hurt his precious kid, how much he hurt _him._

But he had a kid to get to.

Tony hurried back to the medbay, not bothering to knock on the wooden door and making May jump.

“Is he gone?” she asked.

“Yeah. I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of him again.” He grinned.

May nodded. “Good.” She smiled to herself, patting Peter’s foot.

(It was obvious she had a strong hatred for the man who had almost killed her nephew.)

Tony sat on the bed, making sure not to disturb the child with his sudden weight, and kissed Peter’s temple tenderly, his gaze filled with love as he memorized every detail of his kid’s face, then smoothed his hand over his curls. “Don’t worry, buddy. He won’t be bothering you _ever_ again.”


End file.
